Friday, November 20, 2009

Chicago loves me not.

I have come to understand something.

Chicago is like a cool person that doesn't want me around.

I wander around after Chicago, far too impressed, far too interested, a little scared, trying to be friends with Chicago, hoping Chicago will notice me. But Chicago has better things to do. Chicago brushes me off. I try to catch Chicago's eye and make Chicago smile, but all I get is a patronizing smirk. Chicago makes jokes about me to it's friends while I'm standing right there, pretending to think that I don't hear. Chicago knows I can hear.

Chicago doesn't love me the way I want to love Chicago. I want Chicago to think I'm sexy and cool, but I'm pretty sure Chicago doesn't think anything about me at all. I try to be pretty for Chicago, but Chicago sees prettier girls to look at. I try to be funny for Chicago, but Chicago never laughs. Chicago is too cool for me.

You can't go into Chicago looking for adventure and fun. You have to go to Chicago with an already well founded base of your own happiness. You are not allowed to care about Chicago or want to be with Chicago. You have to have your own agenda and already be excited about your own things, because if you look to Chicago for happiness and excitement, Chicago will be disgusted with you.

Needless to say, my time in Chicago is never what I want it to be. I always feel let down, like I just didn't fit in and simply wasn't allowed to enjoy myself. Maybe if I moved to Chicago it would be a little nicer to me. Maybe it would just think I'm stalking it and would give me the cold shoulder. Who knows. For right now I'll keep working at Chicago, trying to convince it that I just want to be friends, and maybe some night I'll crack it and I'll notice it smiling at one of my jokes, in spite of itself.

Or maybe I'll just move and try to meet a different city.

(Originally posted on September 2nd, 2008)

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